


Blackmail

by Miratete



Category: The Transformers (Cartoon Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Awkward Romance, Blackmail, Comfort/Angst, Emotional Baggage, Espionage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2018-09-19
Packaged: 2019-07-10 13:59:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15950801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miratete/pseuds/Miratete
Summary: Turns out Jazz's secret entrance into the Nemesis isn't such a secret after all. Breakdown knows of it as well. An unlikely and forbidden relationship develops between the confident saboteur-spy and the strung-out Stunticon. Guilty pleasures abound.





	1. Surprised

-o-o-o-o-o-

The mutual squawk of surprise became the mutual drawing of weapons. Breakdown and Jazz eyed each other, a staring contest of sorts, until Jazz asked the first question. “What are you doing down here?”

“I should be asking you that,” said the blue and white Stunticon.

Jazz laughed unconcernedly. “There's never anyone down here. Did buckethead tighten up security?”

“Maybe, Autobot.”

“My name's Jazz. You'd do well to know it.”

Breakdown snorted. “How can you be so flippant? One quick 'comm will have everyone down here in an astrosecond.”

“An astrosecond?” Jazz laughed. “You mean to say they finally fixed that broken elevator?” Jazz laughed. And to Breakdown's surprise the Autobot holstered his pistol. “Well if everyone's coming, I'd better be ready.” The black and white mech removed a sparkling cube of high-grade from a subspace pocket. “Don't mind me charging up here. I'm a better fight when a bit overcharged actually,” he said as he broke the seal. Jazz took a long swallow from the cube. “Oh that's good stuff!” he gushed on pulling it away from his mouth. “Want a taste?” he asked, noting that the Stunticon's optics were now fixed on the cube. He set it down and turned away, taking a few steps in no particuar direction. Behind him he heard Breakdown lunge for the cube. And as he moved a touch further away, he glanced back to see the Stunticon sucking at it desperately. “Good, isn't it?”

Breakdown pulled the cube away guiltily. “Hold still. Don't move another step!” He jabbed his pistol in the air for emphasis.

“Easy there, Breakdown. I'm not going anywhere. Not worth the effort if you've got everyone coming down here.” Jazz sat down on one of the huge heat-transfer pipes that ran through the little-visited utility room deep in the bowels of the Nemesis.

Breakdown could not stop himself from opening his mask once again to take a drink.

“Yeah, better finish that now before the others get here. You know they'll just take it from you,” the saboteur smirked. “Speaking of which...” He dipped into subspace again and took out another cube, this one smaller but glowing a scintillating golden color. “Ever try a sulfur mix one? I might as well give it to you before they strip me in the brig.”

“Sulfur mix?”

“Yeah, baby. We've got this geologist with us. He's pretty worthless as a warrior, but he does know how to distill the most amazing flavors of high-grade.” Jazz pulled back the seal and took a deep swallow, gasping delightedly as the potent fuel hit his tanks. He closed the seal and held it out in Breakdown's direction. “He's always giving me stuff to try. I must say this planet here's been good for him. Some of the rare elements on Cybertron are a whole lot less rare here. Throw in the solar power and what the humans give us, and we've been eating well.”

Breakdown glared. That had not been the Decepticon experience on Earth. Far from it in fact.

“Sorry. I know how tough it's been for you Decepticons. At least for some of you.” He jiggled the cube. “Here. Take it. Plenty more where that came from.”

Breakdown strode forward and snatched the small cube from Jazz, subspacing it quickly before retreating a few steps.

Jazz lay back on the pipe. “Hmmm... it's taking more than an astrosecond. Did you lie to me about the elevator?” And then he laughed. “No wait. I was the one who mentioned the elevator.” He turned his head to look at Breakdown. “So what are you doing down here all alone?” 

“None of your business Autobot!” Breakdown snapped.

“Probably not. Just asking.” He put his hands behind his helm and crossed his legs at the ankle joints. “Hey, if I fall into recharge, wake me up when everyone's here. I'd hate to miss a fight.”

Breakdown was incredulous. “How can you be so unconcerned?”

Jazz made a humming sound. “It's just how I am. I'll have to fight my way out of here one way or another. I could fight you, or I could fight everyone else once they're here, but since I really owe Wild Rider one—he got me pretty good in that battle at the solar plant—I decided to take the hard route. I figured he'd be coming once I saw it was you standing guard.”

Breakdown did not respond.

“Oh? Not talking? Don't make me call Vortex down here myself to get you to talk,” Jazz teased.

“Shut up, Autobot!” Breakdown spat, jabbing with his pistol again.

“Bit sensitive about your gestalt, are we? Heh, trust me. I know how that goes. Not that I'm part of a gestalt but sometimes my department...” He shook his head and sighed. “This war just makes everything so difficult for us sometimes. Prowl's so wound up it's like he's got a driveshaft stuffed up his aft. Mirage lives in the past. Bumblebee thinks he can solve everything just by giving it a big hug. Optimus is so overwhelmed that sometimes...” He cut himself off and sighed again. “I just hope it's over soon. I almost don't care who wins some days. Don't tell anyone else I said that. Not even sure why I told you.” Jazz laughed awkwardly. “Must be even worse when it's your gestalt.”

After a silent minute, Breakdown put his pistol away slowly. “I didn't call the others. Just get out of here. Go away.”

Jazz looked up. “What?”

“Go away.”

“You're letting me go?”

“I... I... Just go!”

Jazz rose from his place on the pipe and moved toward the airlock. “Well, if you insist.” And as he reached the door, he turned back to see the blue and white mech shaking.

“Breakdown? You okay?”

Tears were leaking out from under the Stunticon's visor. “Just go! Get out of here.”

“Breakdown... I didn't mean to make you upset,” the saboteur said softly. “But I'll go. Sorry if I pried too much into your personal life.”

“It's nothing... Nothing important. Just get out of here before I really do call everyone.”

Jazz reached again for the airlock controls. “Breakdown? I know it's got to be tough being a car-former and not exactly getting along with the rest of the faction, and then to be out of sorts with your brothers. Want to talk a little while? No tricks. Maybe... Well. You probably don't want to talk to me.” Jazz ejected a data-slug from a port on his arm. “Take this. If you change your mind.” He held it out to the Decepticon.

“What is it?”

“Several mid-level viruses... and my personal 'comm frequency. If you decide that you really need someone to talk to...” Jazz set the slug down at the side of the airlock and opened the inner door. “Be seeing you, Breakdown. Probably in battle, but I won't hold it against you,” he chuckled.

-o-o-o-o-o-

"Blackmail" continues in Chapter 2: "Weakened"

-o-o-o-o-o-


	2. Weakened

-o-o-o-o-o-

“Down here again? I see that you have a berth here.” Breakdown had been sleeping on it when Jazz had found him. Though it wasn't much more than a thick pad and a pillow slipped down behind an angle in a few of the pipes.

Breakdown's optics flickered on, and recognizing the saboteur leaning over him, he sat up and flailed for his pistol, only to find it in Jazz's hands.

“Looking for this?”

To Breakdown's unbelievable surprise Jazz handed it back to him.

“What are you doing?” asked Breakdown, aiming the business end to point right at Jazz's head.

“Eh... just breaking in again to cause a little mayhem and mischief. Optimus wants me to go spy on Starscream this time.”

“Why did you wake me?” Breakdown spat. “You could have just killed me and no one would have been the wiser,”

“Eh, didn't feel like it so early in the mission. Besides. I brought some more high-grade. Hippiebot made me an oxygen infusion and I thought you might like to try it.” Jazz removed a bright pink cube of high-grade from a pocket, broke the seal, and then took a long sip. “Oh that's so good!” he grinned before handing it to Breakdown.

Jazz stepped away while the Stunticon drank greedily from the cube. “Have they fixed the elevator yet?”

“What? The elevator? No.”

“Better for me that way. Keeps this place a little more private.” He looked over at the other car-former and then patted the mattress. “That why you're down here? Little privacy with a lover?” he insinuated.

“None of your business, Autobot!” Breakdown hissed.

Jazz chuckled. “You're a good-looking mech. Got a gorgeous frame. I can see why you'd want to hide a little love-nest somewhere.”

Breakdown choked on the mouthful of energon he was attempting to swallow, some of it missing his stomach and hitting his vocal resonance chamber. “Stop teasing me!” he gasped when he'd managed to clear some of the liquid.

Jazz cocked his head. “Teasing? I was just complimenting. So who is it? Or should I just plant a spy cam for my own personal use. Completely off the record. Just me watching you frag some lucky mech into the floor.”

Breakdown's optics opened wide. “Go away,” he growled.

“Fine, fine... Mind if I go peep in on Starscream first?”

“Whatever you want. Just leave me alone.”

“Still fighting with your brothers? " Jazz's smirk straightened, and his voice took on a soft yet serious tone. "Oh... was one of them was your sweet thing?”

Breakdown threw the empty cube at Jazz. “Just get out of here before I change my mind about reporting you!”

-o-o-o-o-o-

Three days later Breakdown found the gift box resting on his mattress behind the pipes, a note left with it. 'I brought you a cheer-up gift and a little something for your nest.' It was signed 'From one bad boy to another.' Inside the box was some nicely scented car soap, two kinds of polish, and a strange yellow piece of organic skin that felt absolutely wonderful to the touch. Underneath the box was folded a huge soft blanket with a fuzzy texture. The goods were all of human origin.

Damn that spy.

-o-o-o-o-o-

“Why are you so nice to me?” Breakdown huffed. “Why don't you just kill me and get it over with?” Jazz had caught him sleeping again. He'd woken to find the Autobot lying beside him on the mattress.

“I dunno. I guess I'm a sucker for a pretty set of wheels.”

“I'm not pretty,” Breakdown growled. “Thrust tells me almost every time he sees us how ugly we Stunticons are. And he's not the only one.”

“C'mon. What are you talking about?”

“Megatron built us to fight. Not to show off. We're warriors. Not pleasurebots.”

“Seriously?” Jazz waved his hand dismissively. “Those stupid flyboys don't know what they're talking about.” He produced the expected cube of high-grade, this serving a gleaming white that looked like sunshine on fresh snow. “I brought this for you. But I'd better have a drink first so you know it's not poisoned,” he laughed.

As Breakdown drank, Jazz stole the one pillow and rested his head onto it. “It's gotta be tough being a car-former here. I know the flight-frames have come to dominate the warrior contingent. And I'm guessing you're not doing too well with your gestalt. Menasor was a mess in that last fight.”

Breakdown glared at the intruder, but then sighed. The Autobot was completely right. “Megatron made us a team, but Vector Sigma didn't seem to think we needed to get along. We're always fighting among ourselves. It's bad enough having to deal with the teasing from the others, but when we get along like a bunch of angry turbofoxes stuffed into a tiny cage... And then Motormaster... He... he...” Breakdown was unable to continue.

Jazz heard the patter of tears hitting plating. “I'm sorry.” Jazz took back the cube and took another sip. “Can I let you in on a little secret?”

A painful laugh rang in Breakdown's vocalizer. “I thought you were supposed to learn secrets, not give them away.”

Jazz laughed too, but with honesty. “Well, this isn't much of a secret, but the Aerialbots, who were given life by Vector Sigma not long after your team was, they're a mess too. Optimus would shoot me for saying this, but I suspect there's something wrong with Vector Sigma. I guess the trauma our planet's been through has affected it as well.”

“What do you mean 'a mess'?”

“They're always fighting. Disobeying orders. They don't much get along with each other. And don't much get along with the rest of the Autobots. Most of the time their team leader has to beg or threaten to get them to do anything. They talk a little too much about how impressive those seekers are.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

Breakdown laughed in disbelief, and with some relief to the fact that it wasn't just his team.

“Anyway, I'm supposed to be here to find our what the Constructicons are working on. We've seen them gathering building materials.” He handed the cube back to Breakdown and rose off the berth. “Still have my comm' frequency?”

“Um... yeah.”

“The offer's still open if you ever want to talk.”

Breakdown just watched the black and white walk away into the shadows.

-o-o-o-o-o-

"Blackmail" continues in Chapter 3: "Needed"

-o-o-o-o-o-


	3. Needed

-o-o-o-o-o-

'I need to talk' went from just 'I need to talk' to 'hold me like you care about me' in all too short a time. Jazz had met Breakdown in an underground parking garage in Central City, and the two ended up sitting together for a long time. Breakdown sobbed on and on about his gestalt's dysfuntion and Motormaster's maltreatment and the rest of the Decepticons' abuse and Megatron's apathy. He pressed his face into Jazz's shoulder and clutched at him, completely ignoring the fact that they were on opposing sides of the war. Eventually in Jazz's arms his trembling ceased and the terrible knock of his internals softened into a purr.

“Jazz?”

“Mmm?”

“I know this is horrible, but sometimes I think you're my only real friend. I sort of have my gestalt mates, but we aren't really friends. We're just forced together.”

Jazz's grip turned into a near pinch. “Breakdown, you can't think of me that way. I'm... well you know who I am.”

“I'm trying not to think about who you are. It's impossible for someone like you... to be so good to me.”

Jazz chuckled sardonically. “Not impossible, Breakdown. Just improbable.”

-o-o-o-o-o-

'Hold me like you care about me' went from just 'hold me like you care about me' to 'hold me like you love me deeply' in all too short a time. This time they were in an abandoned barn a few miles along a little-used dirt road. They sat together sipping high-grade from a shared cube, their optics upon the patch of night sky visible through the huge hole in the roof. The young moon had set and the stars shone in their full glory.

“I know you don't love me, but could we pretend otherwise tonight?” asked Breakdown timidly.

“Why would you want to tease yourself that way?”

“Because... because thinking about you, and how nice you are to me gets me through these days. I know you're just using me, but... it still feels good to pretend.”

Jazz sighed gently. “If you'd like, and if your lover won't suddenly show up and murder me in a jealous rage.”

Breakdown's expression was pained. “We won't be disturbed.” He pulled the gifted blanket from his subspace and spread it upon the barn's broken floor. He lay upon it, beckoning for Jazz to join him.

Morning found them still curled together in a tight embrace, black hands cupped around dark blue ones.

-o-o-o-o-o-

'Hold me like you love me deeply' went from just 'hold me like you love me deeply' to 'frag me like you know you want to' in all too short a time. Jazz had come to the Nemesis at Breakdown's invitation, the saboteur expecting an ambush. But he was only ambushed by a rather hot and bothered Stunticon, who led the saboteur over to the bed behind the pipes. They drank the expected cube of high-grade and snuggled for a whiled before Breakdown opened himself physically and offered himself to Jazz's pleasure.

“Breakdown. Ya' don't have to do this for me,” Jazz protested softly. “And you know I'm not supposed to. I know you're not supposed to either.”

“Jazz, please?”

Jazz reached forward, fingers moving unquestionably toward the bared interface equipment.

Breakdown tensed—the Autobot did actually want him.

But instead of touching him Jazz carefully closed the Stunticon's protective panel.

“Jazz?”

“I'd just be taking advantage of you.”

“You can!” Breakdown blurted. “I don't mind.”

Jazz was stunned at the response. “How can you not mind?” 

“The others...they tell me I'm ugly and then tell me they'll frag me because they feel sorry for me. Sometimes I let them. And Motormaster... he... he takes one of us to his berth every night, whether we want to go or not. I'm used to it.”

Jazz wrapped his arms around the young mech and held him closely. “Breakdown... I'm so sorry. But I'm not like them.”

The Stunticon looked into the Autobot's optics. “Could you be? I want to be close to you.”

Jazz gave him a soft kiss on the lips. “We'd just be getting ourselves deeper into trouble. Interfacing makes one so vulnerable.”

“I don't care,” Breakdown whimpered. “I just want to feel loved. To feel wanted. Somehow 'facing sorta makes me feel that way.”

“Well it should, Breakers. But it shouldn't be like what they've been doing to you.”

“Jazz, show me how it should be, then.”

The Autobot sighed at the mech's insistence. “Breakers... I just want to keep things casual, you know... I come here. We have some drinks. Maybe we cuddle a bit. I sneak off and do a little peeping upstairs. And both of us keep quiet about these meetings. My superiors know I'm here spying or whatever, but they don't know that you're involved.”

“But you've been so nice to me. You keep me calm. You give me a reason to stay alive. You give me advice. You teach me how to be a grounder. It just seems like interfacing is the next logical step.”

“It does, doesn't it?”

“Jazz... Jazz I love you. With an aching spark.”

Jazz froze. “That's a serious feeling for ya' to be having.”

“Please... please take me. Do what you want with me.”

Jazz cupped the Stunticon's chin in his hand and turned him to face him, staring deep into Breakdown's optics. “Breakers, you know the truth. All I want is to make sure that airlock stays unlocked to me.”

Whimpering desperately, Breakdown clutched at Jazz. “Love me... Love me and it will always remain unlocked to you.”

“Is that blackmail?”

The Decepticon looked horrified. “No! No it's not! Jazz! I want you so much. I want you to keep visiting me here. I'd never even think of blackmailing you. Jazz, please.”

“What about your lover?”

“Don't you understand?” Breakdown cried. “I don't have a lover. I put a berth down here so I could get away and hide from everyone.”

“You don't bring anyone down here?”

“Of course not! If someone frags me they just bend me over the nearest desk or shove me onto the nearest berth and no one cares who's around or if anyone's watching. I hate it, but it's...” he slumped over, shaking and hiccuping out sobs.

“Oh Breakdown. I'm so sorry.” Jazz held the Stunticon closely again, this time kissing him tenderly on the side of his helm.

“I only say yes to them because at least it's something.”

“You can say no, Breakdown.”

The white Lamborghini looked up at Jazz, pleading in his optics. “Give me a reason to say no to them. To say no to Motormaster.”

Jazz kissed Breakdown's trembling mouth. “You're blackmailing me emotionally,” he whispered on breaking the kiss.

“Tell me what else I should do then...”

Jazz released the Stunticon and stared at him, contemplating for a minute.

“I think you should be on top for this.” Jazz pulled away and lay back on the berth, spreading his thighs in invitation.

-o-o-o-o-o-

When Breakdown woke from recharge Jazz was gone as expected. But left in his place was another cube of high-grade and a Decepticon-issue datapad. At least it probably wasn't a regret letter given the gift left behind. Or perhaps it was and the energon was just there to somehow sweeten the loss. Terrified, Breakdown stared at the datapad for over a cycle before finding the courage to pick it up and switch it on.

"Breakers, maybe I'm not so good with my feelings. So much has to be emotionally repressed to do what I do. You said that you loved me. And when I heard it, I wanted to tell you that I loved you too. But I felt myself freeze up, conflicted between my duty and what my spark was telling me. Please please please forgive me for not responding in kind, but know that deep inside, I yearn for you with a passion. My devotion is to Cybertron but my love is yours.  
Your fellow bad boy"

Breakdown clutched the datapad to his chest, whimpering and trembling with emotions he'd never felt for anyone or anything else.

-o-o-o-o-o-

"Blackmail" concludes in Chapter 4: "Compromised"

-o-o-o-o-o-


	4. Compromised

-o-o-o-o-o-

“And?” Prowl prompted.

“I told him that I loved him.”

“Really? You think that's wise?”

“He's so young and so naive. Of course he'll believe it.” Jazz grinned confidently.

“You told me once that you loved me,” Prowl reminded him, optics narrowing.

“And since then the door to your quarters has always remained unlocked to me.”

Prowl stared. “Point taken.” And then he sighed. “Well, whatever it takes to get the upper hand. And as always, just be careful.”

“You know I am.”

-o-o-o-o-o-

Jazz lay in his berth, arm raised, optics focused on the white smudge on his forearm, a small souvenir of his afternoon with the Decepticon Lamborghini.

Breakdown had been pretty clueless about what to do as the dominant partner... at least beyond mounting and forcing himself hard on Jazz. His fellow Decepticons were to blame for that. But he could be taught. He could learn how to overload his partner. He could be instructed in the finer arts of creating pleasure for the mech beneath him while still pleasing himself. Giving the other car-former something he could take confidence in couldn't hurt. That was all though. He couldn't let him overcome all his issues—issues that would keep him dependent on Jazz's love. As much as he might want to empower the Stunticon, he had to give the mech a reason to keep that door unlocked.

Jazz sighed. He'd held back the full story from Prowl—the full story that included his own feelings in the matter. The pretty but insecure Decepticon was such a temptation to him. He wanted to sweep Breakdown up in his arms, seduce him to the Autobot cause, and quietly keep him as a lover as he had with so many others. But for now Breakdown was far more valuable as a Decepticon with control over a forgotten airlock.

Jazz stared again at the mark just above his wrist. In the morning he'd buff it out and re-polish the area.

Or maybe he wouldn't.

-o-o-o-o-o-  
-o-o-o-  
-o-

The End

-o-  
-o-o-o-  
-o-o-o-o-o-


End file.
